Wizard, Waiter, Brother, Spy
by Save vs. Magic
Summary: How Max found out that he always knew, and what he did next. Companion piece to "Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger". Rated M for consistency with HBFS, but really more of a strong T. -JALEX-
1. Chapter 1

**TITLE:** _Wizard, Waiter, Brother, Spy_

**RATING/CONTENT:** T/PG-13 (and only just) for references to consensual, slightly underage sibcest, and mild cursing. Established Jalex, from Max's POV.

**DISCLAIMER:** Would you believe that I don't own _Wizards of Waverly Place_ or its characters? Shocking, I know. I also don't own Spider-Man, Bizarro World, _Sonny With A Chance_, or the state of South Dakota. Heck, even the _Halloween Sorority Party Disaster_ series doesn't belong to me, and that isn't even a real thing! Man...!

**SPOILERS:** Incidental spoilage for Season 3 (up to about Episode 3.12, "Dude Looks Like Shakira") and the movie, but nothing major.

**SUMMARY:** Tired of always playing third wheel to Justin and Alex, and tasked with spying on them by a paranoid Jerry while their parents are away, Max inadvertantly uncovers a secret that's way, way bigger than he bargained for.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Cross-posted from my LiveJournal, where it originally appeared on December 1, 2010. Written as a companion piece to my last multi-chapter fic, _Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger_ (where it fits in neatly between the last two chapters), but that mostly just matters to me. It's not necessary to have read that story to enjoy this one.

* * *

**i.**

"Ungh!" Jerry grunted, red-faced and out of breath as he struggled to navigate down the spiral staircase into the living room, while carrying the last of his wife's bags.

"Jeez Theresa, what do you need all this stuff for? We're only going to be gone for the weekend!" Stopping halfway, he set the bag down with a grunt, and leaned heavily on the railing, exhausted. "And why the hell do we have so many twisty stairs in this place, anyway?"

Panting heavily, trying to catch his breath, he looked up to see Max sitting on the edge of the couch, bobbing and weaving as he waved a video game controller in the air between him and the television, his shoulders hunched in deep concentration. (Well, in at least what passed for deep concentration where Max was concerned, anyway.)

"Hey Max, buddy?" Jerry called down to him. "You wanna come and give your old man a hand with this?"

"Can you give me a sec, Dad?" Max said over his shoulder. "I'm just trying to remember where I dropped the chainsaw."

"Oh," Jerry panted, wiping the sweat off his brow. He looked past Max at the TV and blinked. "Uh, Max? What's that you're playing?"

"_Halloween Sorority Party Disaster 4.5_," Max replied. "It's the videogame prequel to _Halloween Sorority Party Disaster 5_ that fills in all the plot holes between it and the fourth one. It's essential to play if you're going to understand anything that happens in _Halloween Sorority Party Disaster 6_ when it comes out in theatres this Christmas."

"Ohhh-kay," Jerry said hesitantly, stepping over the bag in front of him and coming the rest of the way down the stairs. "Is it supposed to look like that, though? 'Cause from here it looks like the TV isn't even on..."

"Well, of course the TV's off," Max said matter-of-factly, without taking his eyes off the blank screen. "I don't have the game yet."

Jerry blinked again. "You...don't?"

"Duh, no!" Max scoffed. "It's rated 'M' for mature. You have to be at least 18 to buy it. I'm only 15, remember?"

"Ah," Jerry frowned, not quite sure where Max was going with this. "But then why-?"

"But what you don't have to be 18 to buy is the hint book," Max cut him off, grabbing the book off the couch next to him and holding up for Jerry to see. "Which I am now using to train myself in playing the game, so that when I finally _do_ turn 18 and buy it, I'll be able to beat it in no time at all, and finally learn the horrible secret behind the midget's mask."

"But...that's not for three years, son," Jerry pointed out.

"No worries, it's all about the muscle memory," Max said, glancing at his father over his shoulder. "Aren't you the one who says you can still beat _Donkey Kong_ with your eyes closed twenty years later?"

Jerry stared blankly at his son then heaved a heavy sigh. "Of all the ways you could have taken after me..."

"Oh, shoot! Died again!" Max grunted, throwing down his controller in disgust.

"How can you tell?"

Max cocked an eyebrow at him and gestured at the blank TV screen. "Hello? Midget? Meat cleaver? Blood spatters? It's pretty self-evident, Dad. Good thing I saved at that last checkpoint."

"Well, why don't you...pause it...for now," Jerry said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the staircase, "and give me a hand dragging your mom's luggage down to the Sub Station. The cab will be here to get us any minute."

"Oh, don't worry about it, Max," Alex's voice came from upstairs before he could answer. "I got it."

And then, in a brilliant flash of purplish-yellow light, the bag Jerry had been struggling with magically appeared on the coffee table in front of them.

"ALEX!" Jerry shouted, then closed his eyes and mentally counted to ten. "Alex, get down here!"

"What?" Alex protested, the heels of her boots clanking on the stairs as she made her way down. "I'm just trying to help! That bag looked heavy, and the stairs are all twisty. Have you ever tried maneuvering down those things in three-inch heels? 'Cause lemme tell ya, it ain't easy."

"In case you've forgotten, young lady, you're grounded this weekend," Jerry said. "Which means no dates, no boys, no parties, and most importantly, no magic. In fact, any activity at all which you might consider fun, you can just cross right off the list. The only thing I expect you to concern yourself with this weekend is helping Justin to run the Sub Station while we're away, and catching up on your Wizard studies."

Alex rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. "OK, Dad."

"Don't talk back, Alex," Jerry admonished, jabbing an index finger at her accusingly. "It's high time that you learned that with great power comes great responsibility!"

"Oh God, not the Spider-Man speech again," Max groaned.

"Uh, Dad?" Alex held out her hands in front of her. "Who's got two thumbs and isn't talking back? This girl right here. So, maybe, I don't know, chill a little?"

Jerry blinked at her, then cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes as he replayed the last few moments of the conversation in his head. "That's right, you didn't talk back. And that worries me, deeply. Why didn't you talk back, Alex?"

"_D-a-a-ad!_" Alex whined, stomping her heel in frustration. "Can't you just believe that I've matured enough to accept my punishment like an adult? 'Do the crime, do the time,' all that jazz? I've grown up a lot since Puerto Rico, y'know."

Jerry was silent for a moment as he held his pouting daughter's gaze. Squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath, he held up one hand as if preparing to say something wise and heartfelt...then leaned forward and slapped his knee as both he and Max suddenly collapsed into helpless peals of laughter. Alex threw up her arms in exasperation, then crossed them below her breasts and shook her head angrily.

"Good one, honey," Jerry chuckled, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "But seriously, hand over your wand, huh?"

"You really still don't trust me?" Alex said. "After everything we've been through?"

"No offense, sweetheart, but it's _because_ of everything we've been through that I don't trust you. Fool me once, yada yada yada, you know how it goes." He held out his hand and wiggled his fingers at her in the universal gesture of 'gimmie'. "C'mon, give it up."

Alex glared at him a moment, nostrils flaring, then rolled her eyes and hunched over to lift her right knee to her her chest. Muttering under her breath, she fished her wand out of her boot, twirled it once around her finger, and pressed the handle into her father's palm.

"Fine. Here."

"Atta girl," Jerry smiled as he tucked it into his back pocket. "You can have it back on Tuesday after your mother and I get back."

"Wait, you're going to bring it with you all the way to Grandma's?" Alex asked in a panicked voice. "What if you lose it? What if you sit on it? What if she uses it as a stake for one of her tomato plants like she did that one time?"

Max whistled at the memory. "Man, those were some big tomatoes. Mean, too."

"Relax, Alex," Jerry sighed. "Nothing's going to happen to your wand. I'll keep it perfectly safe, I promise."

"The last time you said that, I spent two weeks breaking in a new one, and Justin had nightmares about tomatoes with fangs for six months!" said Alex. "Dad, be reasonable! What if one of the boys gets into trouble while you're gone, and I have to go rescue them, or something?"

"Pfft!" Max scoffed from the couch. "Like _that_ ever happens."

A slow grin spread across Jerry's face. "See, now I know that keeping your wand is the right thing to do. Because you definitely want it for something, and I'll be damned if it's to look out for your brothers."

Alex glared at him, then slumped her shoulders in defeat. "Yeah, that was a little far-fetched, wasn't it?"

"Little bit. Points for trying, though."

"Cab's here!" Justin announced brightly as he entered through the front door. "Dad, Mom says to hurry up and get your tush downstairs with that last suitca—oh good, there it is."

Whipping his wand out of his pocket, Justin twirled it in the air with a flourish and pointed it at the suitcase, which disappeared in a brilliant flash of purplish-yellow light. Justin grinned, nodded to himself in satisfaction, then started as he caught the glare that both his siblings and his father were giving him.

"What?" he protested. "The meter's already running! That bag looked heavy, and the stairs are all twisty! And you know how prone my ankle is to turning..."

"Your mother and I expect you to set a much better example for your sister and your brother while we're gone," Jerry said patiently after another inward ten-count. "I swear, every day it seems like Alex rubs off on you just a little bit more. It'd be nice if it worked the other way for a change."

"Heh," Alex and Justin grinned, almost in unison.

Jerry frowned. "Why is that funny?"

Justin and Alex locked eyes guiltily for a second, before turning them back to their father.

"Uh, it's funny," Justin stammered, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck nonchalantly as he flushed a deep shade of red, "because of the, um...irony...that's inherent...in the notion of—"

"The fastest way to kill a joke is to explain it, egghead," Alex broke in quickly, chuckling as she threw her arms around Jerry and leaning her head against his shoulder. "Have a nice trip, Daddy!"

"Yeah, thanks," Jerry said flatly, extricating himself from her grasp. He pointed at Justin. "You're sure you're OK with this? Labor Day weekend. Sub Station's gonna be busy..."

"Dad, please," Justin said smugly. "I've got this."

"_We've_ got this," Alex amended pointedly, then smiled at Jerry. "You and Mom just have a good time. Say hi to Grandma for us."

"Alright," Jerry said, although he sounded somewhat less than convinced. "Justin, remember: one pickle per sandwich, don't go overboard with the black olives, and don't forget to make the deposit. Alex, you listen to your brother, help out as much as you can, and for God's sake, don't let Harper offer free fashion advice to the customers. I swear, we lose more business that way..."

"Uh, Harper's away at Zeke's family reunion all weekend, Dad," Justin reminded him. "Remember? The Big Beekerman Family Fun Jamboree in the Hamptons?"

"Snkt, jamboree!" Alex snickered, elbowing her brother in the ribs. "I don't know which one of us is being punished more, me or Harper. Because, dude, if the rest of the family's anything like Zeke, I'd almost rather be on house arrest..."

Justin scowled at her, indignant. "For your information, the Beekermans are delightful people, the Jamboree is the highlight of the late-summer social season, and I'm very disappointed to have to miss helping his grandmother defend our title as Three-Legged Race champions, three years running."

"Three years hopping, you mean," Max grinned. "Get it? Because it's a three-legged race, and-"

"Wait, so Harper's not picking up any shifts at the Sub Station?" Jerry cut him off, frowning from Alex to Justin, and back. "It's just gonna be you guys, all weekend? I dunno, I'm beginning to have second thoughts about this. I mean, I know she's a terrible at it and all, but if it's between having her or _Max_ wait tables..."

"Dad, it'll be fine, honest," Alex said, patting Jerry's arm. "You know how responsible Justin is."

"And Alex and I make a pretty good team when we have to," Justin added. (And if Jerry didn't know his kids better, he'd swear that a kind of amused, knowing look passed between them for a split second, like they were sharing some sort of inside joke.) "Seriously. You don't have anything to worry about."

This should have quelled any uneasiness Jerry had about leaving them alone for the weekend—after all, it was all true—but for some reason, it didn't. If anything, it only served to feed the deep sense of foreboding that had been lingering in the back of his mind about it for almost as long as they'd planned it. If only he could put his finger on why...

His train of thought was broken by the sound of a car horn coming from the street below the terrace, followed by Theresa's melodious voice screaming at him to get his ass downstairs, already.

"Hey Alex, it's Cab 804 that's taking them, by the way," Justin said, gesturing to the door. "He's asking for you."

"Bert's here? Oh, sweet!" Alex beamed. "C'mon, Daddy, let's go say hi to him before you go!"

"Mmm-hmm," Jerry murmured. But he didn't follow them as they went bounding down the stairs, one after the other, without so much as a shove or an elbow to the ribs. Looking for all the world like two people who were content, even happy, to be in one another's presence.

And then Jerry snapped his fingers, as the source of his vague sense of foreboding suddenly became clear to him: Alex and Justin were being nice to each other. Way, _way_ too nice. Pleasant, even. Which meant that something was definitely, positively up. Because, _seriously_.

"What do you want me to do, Dad?"

"Huh?" Jerry asked, startled. He turned halfway round, and was surprised to see Max sitting on the couch, grinning eagerly up at him. To be perfectly honest, he'd completely forgotten his youngest was even there.

"What do you want me to do?" Max repeated. "You gave jobs to Justin and Alex. So what's my job?"

Despite himself, Jerry found himself hesitating. "Uh...y'know...the usual. Work your shifts at the Sub Station, keep on top of your wizard homework...um...and try not to break the lamp? Oh, and keep working on that video game thing! It looked like you were really getting the hang of it!"

"Oh, c'mon Dad!" Max half-sighed, half-pleaded as he pushed himself up off the couch. "You're letting Justin run the Station all weekend, and even Alex you're trusting a little. Even though, y'know..._wow._"

"Yeah..." Jerry admitted, a little more quickly than he would have liked.

"It's just that it always feels like it's all about them all the time," Max continued, despondent. "They always get to run the show, and I'm just kind of...shoved in around the edges, kinda. Sometimes I wonder why I'm even around!"

"Hey, don't say that," Jerry frowned, laying a hand on Max's shoulder. "You're not just shoved in around the edges. You know you mean as much to me and your mom as Justin and Alex do."

"Then give me something to _do!_" Max exclaimed. "Give me a job that only I can do, that you wouldn't trust Alex or Justin with."

Jerry took a deep breath and let it out slowly, appraising his youngest son. On the one hand, Max was...well, Max. But on the other, the boy did have a point. The Russo family did tend to orbit around Planet Jalex, more often than not. And there was always that old saw about needing to be trusted in order to prove oneself trustworthy...

"Alright, Max," Jerry nodded, more to himself than to his son. "There is actually something you can do for me. You see, my Spidey Sense is tingling."

"And again with the Spider-Man speech..." Max said flatly as he turned away.

"No wait, listen," Jerry said, grabbing Max's shoulder firmly. "What I mean is that I suspect your brother and your sister may be in cahoots."

Max stared up at him blankly.

"Working together," Jerry said by way of explanation. "As in the two of them are up to something no good. I know how unlikely that sounds, but they've been far too nice to each other lately for there to be any other explanation."

Max nodded and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I _have_ noticed a drop-off in the usual cycle of wedgies, wet willies and overall snarkiness the past few weeks, but I thought it was just me."

"They also seem to be hugging a lot more, lately," Jerry observed. "For uncomfortably long periods of time, too."

"No, they've always done that," Max said, waving one hand dismissively.

"Oh," Jerry frowned, nonplussed. "Uh...anyway, it's possible that Alex has either a) blackmailed Justin, b) put a charm on him so he'll go along with whatever she's up to, or c) just duplicated him outright and hidden the real Justin away somewhere where he can't interfere."

"Or d)," Max interjected, holding up one finger, "something recently happened between them that gave them a deeper appreciation for one another and made them realize just how important their relationship is."

Jerry considered this for a moment. "Yeah, I'm more inclined to go with my theory."

"Me too, me too," Max nodded. He grinned eagerly. "So you want me to get to the bottom of it?"

"Without arousing their suspicions if you can, yes," Jerry said. "Now remember, you're just a scout. Don't engage the enemy, just observe and report. Whatever you find out, we'll deal it with on Monday night when your mother and I get back. Understand?"

"Yes sir!" Max said, snapping off a jaunty salute.

"Alright, then. One more thing." Jerry reached into his back pocket, then handed Alex's wand to Max. "On the off chance that I'm wrong—or even worse, if I'm right—Alex makes a good point that it could be dangerous to leave her wandless over the weekend. I want you to stash this somewhere she can't find it—"

"Right on," Max said. "I'll hide it in my room."

"—but where you can get to it easily if she needs it in an emergency," Jerry finished.

"Oh," Max grimaced, thinking twice. "So somewhere in the lair, I guess?"

"Wherever you think is best," Jerry smiled, patting Max on the shoulder. Out on the street, Bert the Cab honked his horn again, which was followed closely by a string of Spanish expletives, causing Jerry to wince.

"I gotta get going, son," Jerry said. "Can I trust you with this?"

"You bet, Dad," Max nodded, all smiles. "Whatever it is Justin and Alex are hiding, you'll know it by Monday."


	2. Chapter 2

**ii.**

Twenty minutes later, having bade his parents goodbye, hidden his sister's wand, and forgotten entirely about his 'mission', Max was back on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table. He fiddled with the controller and frowned as he read aloud softly from the hint guide that lay open on the cushion next to him.

"Right, so I head four hallways north of the pillow fight room, stop to pick up the rubber chicken with the pulley in the middle, and turn left at second intersection. Then I turn right at the _next_ one, fifty feet after that, kick the wolfman in the nards when he leaps out at me, then jump over him and head straight for the next checkpoint...which is where I should have dropped the chainsaw?" He blinked in confusion at the blank screen before him, then held the controller up, glancing from one hand to the other and back. "Okay, makes sense. Now which one of you puppies is 'left' again?"

Suddenly a black gym bag slammed down on the table next to his leg, startling Max enough that he dropped the controller and let out a strangled squeal worthy of Justin. Looking up from the bag, he realized that Alex was standing over him, hands on her hips and smiling at him tightly in that 'I mean business, so don't even think about pissing me off' way that she had.

"What's this?" Max asked, unconsciously leaning away from her juuuuust a little bit.

"Your overnight bag," Alex explained. "I packed it for you. You're going to be staying at Alfred's for the weekend. All weekend."

Max cocked an eyebrow at her. "I am?"

"Mmm-hmm," Alex nodded. "You guys set it up weeks ago. You're going to camp out together in his back yard."

"We are?" Max asked uncertainly.

"Oh yes," Alex said, her tight, wide smile growing even wider and tighter. "You've really been looking forward to it. You're going to spend the entire weekend reading comics and eating junk food and...not showering, and...I dunno, doing all that other crap that boys your age get off on. It's gonna be sweet."

"It is?" Max said with a grin, warming up to the idea. "But what about my shifts at the Sub Station?"

"Oh, don't worry about it." Alex said, waving one hand dismissively. "We'll manage without you. I mean, let's be honest, we barely notice the difference when you _are_ here."

Max's smile disappeared suddenly, as he narrowed his eyes at his sister. "What?"

"Aheh, I keed, I keed!" Alex chuckled, realizing she was in danger of losing him. She leaned forward to lay a hand on his shoulder. "Now listen, his mom's expecting you, so you better get a move on. You don't want to miss the first round of s'mores while they're still hot off the campfire, do ya?"

"THERE'S GONNA BE S'MORES?" Having heard all he needed to hear, Max leapt up off the couch, threw the bag's shoulder strap over his head, and ran for the front door. It wasn't until he was already halfway out into the hall before his brain caught up to him, bringing him to a sudden stop.

"Waaaaaaaiiiit a second," he said, turning halfway around and wearing a puzzled expression. "Alfred moved away last month."

Alex's face fell. "He did?"

"Right after school let out, yeah," Max nodded. "To South Dakota."

"Aaaaaaand that's where you're going!" Alex said, her wide, tight grin returning. "Picturesque South Dakota! Only voted the very BEST state for end-of-summer backyard campouts, six years out of the last seven, hello?"

"But they don't even have a backyard," Max protested. "Alfred and his dad moved into his uncle's two-bedroom apartment after his parents divorced. And his mom doesn't even live with them anymore, so how is she supposed to be expecting me?"

"Mom, dad...backyard, rickety fire escape...tomato, tomahto, hahahaha!" Alex laughed, waving her hand as if to brush off such petty details as she stalked towards him. "The point is, you're going to South Dakota, you're going to have a great time, and you're absolutely not coming back until Monday. Call us when you get there, say hi to Al for us, have a safe trip, BYE!"

And with that, Alex shoved him out the door and slammed it behind him. Dusting off her hands, she heaved a small sigh of exertion, then spun on her heel and headed for the kitchenette for a congratulatory bottle of water.

She stopped short as the front door squeaked open slowly behind her, and Max poked his head around it into the room.

"If I didn't know better," he said, glaring suspiciously at the back of Alex's head, "I'd say you were trying to get rid of me."

"Damn, " Alex muttered under her breath. "Shoulda locked it!"

"Unfortunately for you," Max continued as he strode back into the apartment and slammed the door behind him, "I've just remembered two things. The first, is that Alfred is deathly allergic to marshmallows. Which means no s'mores. Which means no Max, because Maxie only goes where the s'mores be. Comprende?"

"Uh huh," Alex said flatly. "And the second thing?"

Max beamed proudly at her, and made a show of looking over each shoulder before leaning towards her.

"I've been given a very important mission to complete," he stage-whispered.

"Mission?" Alex spun around and frowned at her little brother. "What mission? What are you talking about? From who?"

Max held up a hand as if to forestall any further questions. "I'm afraid that info's on a need-to-know basis, sister. And you? Don't. Need. To know."

"Ah ha," Alex said, holding his gaze for a beat. "So lemme guess, Mom?"

"Dad, actually."

"I knew it," Alex said sourly, snapping her fingers.

"Damn you and your devious interrogation techniques!" Max snarled, shaking his fist at her. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Max slipped the shoulder strap back over his head, and let his bag drop dramatically to the floor. "But that's the last bit of information you'll get from me, woman. From now on, it's name, rank and serial number only."

"So then what's the deal, here, Max?" Alex pressed. "You're supposed to spy on me? Report back to Dad about my every little movement over the next few days?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Max said as he plopped back down on the couch and picked up the controller again. "Oh, but only if I can do it without arousing suspicion."

Alex stared at him blankly for a moment. "Yeah, good job you're doing there, Sparky."

"Thanks!" Max said brightly. "Say Alex, why were you trying to get rid of me, anyway?"

Before she could answer, a set of muffled footfalls sounded on the winding metal staircase above. They both looked up to see Justin descending towards them, dressed in plaid slippers and silk pajamas, a velvet robe and matching ascot. A pipe was clenched between his teeth. One hand slid along the winding metal rail next to him, while the other was tucked into the front pocket of his robe in what he probably thought was a sophisticated, debonair fashion.

Max's jaw dropped open audibly. Alex snorted as she struggled to contain her laughter.

"All right, Alex," Justin said, oblivious, his voice sounding deeper and huskier than usual. He stared straight ahead as he took one measured step after another down the staircase. "For weeks, now, we've had to sneak around, hiding our feelings, repressing our urges...but now that we're finally alone, at last...at long, long last...it's time for us to cast aside these ridiculous pretenses and obsolete societal mores, and throw ourselves with reckless abandon into OHMIGOD MAX WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?"

Alex and Max stared at Justin wide-eyed as the pipe slipped out from beneath his teeth and clattered to the stair below. He came down on it with his right foot, slipped backwards as it came out from under him, then tumbled ass-over-teakettle down the last few remaining stairs to land in a rumpled silk heap on the floor.

"Justin!" Alex cried, rushing towards him. Unhurt, Justin bounded up off the ground like an inflatable punching bag clown, and grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Alex, you were supposed to get rid of him!" he hissed under his breath. "I heard the front door slam! Why is he still on this side of it?"

"Dude, what the hell are you wearing?" Max asked, genuinely curious.

"Yes, Justin," Alex said pointedly, shrugging his hands off her shoulders and tilting her head to one side in amusement. "What the hell _are_ you wearing? And do you think Hugh Hefner suspects his pajamas are missing?"

Max frowned at her in confusion. "Who's Hugh Hefner?"

Justin blanched, looked from Alex to Max and back again, then grabbed Alex by the hand and dragged her bodily after him into the kitchenette. Only once there were safely behind the island did he drop her hand, point at Max, and hiss "_Why is he why is he why is he?_"

"I tried to get rid of him, but he won't budge!" Alex whined. "Dad's left him to spy on me."

Justin's complexion actually went a shade paler. "But this is the weekend-we were finally gonna-oh God, do you think he knows?"

"Max?" Alex scoffed. "Please. He barely knows his own name."

"Dad, I mean! Dad!" Justin snarled. "Of course I don't mean Max! Don't be ridiculous!"

"Uh, guys?" Max said from the couch, holding up one finger. "Kitchen doesn't have walls, and I'm sitting right here..."

"Justin, get a grip," Alex snarked, ignoring him. "Do you really think Mom and Dad would even have left if they suspected...well, this?"

She reached up and tugged playfully on his ascot. Justin reared back and swatted her hand away in annoyance.

"Relax, would you?" Alex continued with a smile. "Clearly they just want to make sure I don't bail on you for the weekend, or whatever. Which, dude? Is becoming more and more of a possibility the longer you wear that ridiculous get-up. You are seriously gonna have to change, 'cause this whole ensemble you've got going on here is doing less than nothing for me..."

"Really." Justin's eyes tightened a little at the corners as he smiled. "Because if it's making you want to get me _out_ of it, then mission accomplished."

Alex cocked an eyebrow at this, impressed with him despite herself.

"Well, then..." she purred, taking a step towards him as she reached for the ascot again.

Justin grabbed her wrist and nodded towards the couch. "Max!" he hissed.

"Hmm?" Max looked up from where he'd become absorbed in the hint book. "Oh right, spy. Can you guys do the last five minutes over again? I forgot to pay attention."

Alex and Justin stared at him with a mixture of disbelief and pity.

"You know, I'm genuinely beginning to think we could actually do it in plain sight, right here on the counter in front of him, and he'd still be completely oblivious," Justin observed.

Max blinked at him. "Do what now?"

"Ew, don't be gross!" Alex made a face as she swatted at Justin's arm. "Jesus Christ, Justin...can't you just, I dunno, charm Max into going to South Dakota, or something?"

"Uh, once again," Max said, raising his hand as if to get their attention, and pointing to himself. "Still right here. No walls. Able to hear everything."

Ignoring him, Justin frowned at Alex in confusion. "South Dako—? Why would I send him to—?"

"_Away_, Justin!" Alex said, stomping her foot impatiently. "Charm him _away_ from here. I don't particularly care where, just as long as he's not here for the weekend!"

"But I thought that was what you were gonna do! Getting rid of him was _your_ job!"

"And if I still actually had my wand to do it with, do you think we'd be standing here having this conversation?" Alex flung both arms in the direction of her younger brother. "So c'mon...whip it out, lay the smack down on him, do that twirly thing around your finger that you seem to think is oh-so-cool, and then we can finally get down to...y'know, stuff!"'

"Ah-HA! STUFF!" Max shouted, pointing at each of them in turn. "You're planning to get down to STUFF! It's all coming together. Your little web of intrigue is all starting to unravel. Damn, but I'm good at this."

"Alex," Justin said soberly (after another shared moment spent staring at Max with pity and disbelief), "I'm not going to charm Max to go to...I'm sorry, South Dakota, was it?"

"It's not important, egghead!" Alex snapped. "Send him back to Mars for all I care! Just send him already!"

"I'm not sending him anywhere," Justin said firmly, then visibly deflated beneath his silk pajamas with a heavy sigh. "I can't."

"Oh, holy rollerblading mother of God, _why not?_"

"Yeah, why not?" Max said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "I'm curious, myself."

His eyes darting from one sibling to the other and back, Justin shrugged his shoulders against his velvet robe, and awkwardly cleared his throat. "Well, you see...with great power comes great responsibility..."

"Sweet Jesus in a smoking birchbark canoe," Alex groaned, dropping her head and pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. "You cannot be serious."

"What?" Justin protested, his voice cracking as it raised an octave. "You remember what happened when Professor Crumbs found out you turned Mom and Dad into guinea pigs to hide your report card from them! How do you think he's going to react if he finds out I sent our little brother to _South Dakota_ so we could—?"

"And how the hell is he supposed to find out?" Alex cut him off, incredulous. "I'm sure as hell not gonna tell him! Are you?"

"We agreed that we need to keep this on the down-low, Alex," Justin said, in that condescending, too-patient-but-really-not-patient-at-all voice that he knew annoyed her. "Does it not strike you that charming a minor into crossing state lines all on his own might be a little high-profile?"

"Crossing state—? Would you stop being so literal and forget about South Dakota, already? It was a figure of speech!"

"Uh, since when is 'South Dakota' a figure of speech?" Max chimed in from the couch.

"QUIET!" Alex and Justin shouted over their shoulders at him in unison.

"I'm not doing it," Justin said with an air of finality, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head. "I've been looking forward to this weekend as much as you have, Alex. Probably moreso... but it's not worth the risk of losing my powers if we're found out."

"Fine!" Alex growled. Without looking up, she thrust out a hand towards him, palm up. "Then give me your wand, and I'll do it."

"Oh, HELL no!" Justin recoiled from her as though her hand was diseased. "Are you crazy? A crack Wiz-CSI team can tie the signature of an illegal spell to the wand that fired it for periods of up to twenty years! And I am SO not taking the fall for you."

"Dammit Justin, would you stop being so goddamned paranoi—wow, twenty years? Really?"

Silent, Justin merely nodded in a sagelike manner. Alex grimaced, her mouth to one side, and turned her head to face the door. "Huh. So maybe Dad losing my wand at Grandma's again wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, after all..."

"Oh, GOD!" Justin shouted, slapping one hand to his forehead. "He took it to GRANDMA'S? But the...the TOMATOES...!"

Now it was Alex and Max who stared at their brother with twin expressions of disbelief, bordering on pity.

"Sooooo, let me get this straight," Alex sighed. Twisting at the waist, she pointed over the island's countertop to Max. "_You_ refuse to leave the house all weekend unless explicitly charmed to do so."

"Sorry," Max shrugged. "Orders are orders. Dad's expecting a full report on Monday night."

"And _you,_" Alex continued, swiveling around to level her index finger at Justin, "refuse to explicitly charm him to leave us the hell alone, or allow me to use your wand to do same, because you are, as always, a big rule-abiding wuss."

Flinching as though she'd slapped him, Justin pointedly avoided her gaze, and reached up to pull absently at the edge of his ascot. "I am. I mean, I do."

"Great," Alex deadpanned. Tilting her head slightly to one side, she fixed Justin with one of her patented too-tight smiles. "Well, guess what I've just decided _I'm_ refusing to do this weekend?"

Justin's face fell. His glanced at Max, then turned his back to him and laid a hand on his sister's arm. "Alex, c'mon...OK, I know it sucks that we can't be alone like we planned, but we can still—"

"Oh, as IF!" Alex snapped, batting his hand away and taking a step back from him. "If the goddamned sanctity of your wand is really more important to you than—"

She broke off with a quick glance at Max.

"...than getting down to stuff..." Max supplied helpfully.

Alex blinked at him, then squared her shoulders and jut her chin out at Justin. "Have fun playing with your wand this weekend, Justin. Don't worry, I won't be going anywhere near it."

"Alex...," Justin said softly, reaching for her. With a growl, Alex dodged under his arm and stormed off, the heels of her boots clanking angrily on the metal staircase as she wound her way upstairs. Both Justin and Max looked up, their eyes tracing the path of her footsteps across the ceiling above them, and flinched when her bedroom door closed with a slam.

In the silence that followed in her wake, Justin exhaled slowly, then reached up to tug the ascot free from his neck. Max frowned at him.

"So no getting down, I take it?" he asked. "No stuff?"

"Probably not, no," Justin admitted as he threw the ascot to the counter in disgust. "I don't see a lot of 'getting down' or 'stuff' in my immediate future."

"Awwwww man," Max groaned. "Just when it was getting good, too. So much for an exciting weekend."

Justin sighed heavily, then looked back up to the ceiling, at the spot where Alex's footsteps had ended. "Yeah, tell me about it."


	3. Chapter 3

**iii.**

Saturday was, in a word, awful. In two words, it was goddamned awful. In three words, it was—well, you get the picture.

Jerry hadn't been wrong about Labor Day weekend. The Sub Station was the busiest that Max had ever seen it. And that was _before_ the busload of Canadian tourists showed up, with their disconcerting "pleases" and "thank you very muches", and their funny-colored money with ducks on it. It would have been hard enough to manage with all five Russos manning the place; with only the three of them, they were just barely keeping up. Max was bussing as fast as humanly possible without resorting to magic, Alex was waiting all eighteen tables at once, and Justin was making sammiches like a freakin' mofo, yet they were still falling behind. How his siblings had planned to get along without him if they'd succeeded in sending him to Alfred's for the weekend, Max couldn't imagine. Especially since they apparently weren't speaking to each other.

_"Max, tell Justin I need a number 4 on whole wheat, no olives, relish and light mayo, pickles on the side, OK? That's a good boy."_

"Alex? Alex! AL—! Arrgh, just tell Alex her order for table 6 is up, Max."

"Dammit, Max! This was the order for table 6, not 16! And tell Justin I said pickles on the side and NO olives! Who the hell orders olives on the side? Honestly!"

"Wait, what do you mean she wants a 16 with olives? We don't HAVE a 16, Max!"

Well, whatever. There was a reason why Max was only supposed to bus tables. They were the older ones, they should know better.

The really weird thing, though? Was the not seeing them fight. Justin and Alex fought, like, all the time. They fought the way other people breathed: like if they ever stopped, they'd die. Watching them spend a whole day NOT fighting gave him the same sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that he got when Mom and Dad _did_ fight. Like something was inherently wrong with his world.

Eventually, after a double-shift for all of them, Justin finally ushered the last customers out the door and locked it behind them. Flipping the sign from OPEN to CLOSED, Justin let out a heavy sigh and dragged himself over to table 9, where he slumped down into a chair across from Max.

"One down, two to go," he said, with a weak smile. "Hell of a day, huh guys?"

"You can say that again," Max agreed, crossing his arms on the table and plopping his head down on them.

They both looked up at Alex expectantly, waiting for her to chime in. Scowling to herself, without looking up, she finished wiping down table 3, then flung her dishrag over her shoulder and stormed into the kitchen.

Max blinked after her. "Soooooo, she's pissed."

"Gee, y'think?" Justin deadpanned. "'Cause I really hadn't noticed."

"I'm not exactly clear on _why_ she's pissed, though," Max said. "I mean, I get that _you_ did something—that much is obvious—but I don't get what, exactly."

"It's tough to explain, Max," Justin sighed, scrubbing his eyes with his fingertips. "Alex and I have a...complicated...relationship."

"Yeah, no duh," Max snorted. "Say, what the hell were you guys gonna do if she'd sent me to South Dakota, anyway?"

Justin suddenly sat bolt upright, his complexion paling noticeably. "Nothing. Nothing at all. Why do you ask?"

Max rolled his eyes at him. "I mean how were you gonna manage, dumbass? Today was crazy. You really think the two of you alone could have handled it?"

"Yeah, well...it would've been tough, but we could probably have figured out something, I'm sure," Justin said with a smile.

Max cocked an eyebrow at him, then slowly reared back in his chair as a realization hit home. "Wait, are you...P-wording me?"

"I'm...sorry?" Justin asked, frowning in confusion.

"Ohmigod, you totally are!" Max shouted. "You were full-on P-wording me, right there!"

"_Pee-wording?_" Justin winced and shook his head. "Max, what the hell does that even mean?"

"You know, when you say something that sounds nice on the surface, but really you're talking down to me 'cause you actually think you're better than me?"

Justin's frown deepened, his eyes looking inward for a moment as he tried to work out what Max was trying to say. "Patronizing?" he said finally.

Max snapped his fingers and pointed at him. "That's it. That's the one."

"What?" Justin said, chuckling nervously. "Noooooo!"

"Oh, you so were!" Max protested. "You think you and Alex would've done just fine without me. You think I did sweet eff all today, don't you?"

"Hey, c'mon," said Justin. "That's not true. I know you did...stuff."

"'Stuff? 'I busted my ass today!" Max's chair slid across the floor with a screech as he stood up suddenly. "And I didn't do just my job, but half of both of yours, too!"

"I know, Max," Justin said, patting the air with his hands. "I know."

"That's, like, two entire jobs I did today! Alex barely does one!"

"Hey, that's not true," Justin said, his face flushing as he leaned forward and jabbed a finger at Max. "Usually? OK, maybe. But not today. Even though she's super pissed at both of us, she didn't bail. She hung in right here with, and saw it through to the end. Hell, she probably worked harder than you and me, combined. So give her a little credit, OK?"

Max blinked at his brother, taken aback. "The _hell?_ Since when do you defend Alex?"

Justin stared at him for a long moment as the color faded from his cheeks, his shoulders slumped.

"Alex and I," he repeated tiredly, "have a very complicated relationship..."

"Oh, screw you _and_ your complicated relationship," Max snarled, pushing his chair away from the table so hard that he knocked it to the floor. "I'm beat. I'm going to bed. Wake me up at eight so I can come down and get in the way of you and Saint Alex some more tomorrow, huh?"

"Max..." Justin sighed, shaking his head. "Look, I'm sorry. I know we couldn't have done it without you. I didn't mean to—"

But Max didn't hear it. He was already up the stairs and halfway to his room before his brother had even finished the sentence. He slammed his door behind him, shoved the dirty laundry off his bed onto the floor, and flopped down onto the mattress, burying his face into his pillow. Sometime later—he wasn't sure how long—there was a light tap at his door, followed by a muffled "Maxie? You OK?" from Alex, but he ignored it. He wasn't in the mood to talk to either of them, right now.

The thing was, he thought as he lay there, he wasn't exactly sure why. Or even who he was mad at, really. Sure, Justin had been a jerk for P-wording him, but it was hardly the first time he'd done it. He P-worded everybody, that was kind of Justin's thing. Hell, the entire family—even Harper—spent most of the time talking over his head like he had no clue what was going on.

And OK, maybe they were right a good sixty percent of the time. And maybe he played along the other forty percent because it was just easier to coast through life when people thought you were clueless. Low expectations were easier to manage. It was one of the first things he'd learned from Alex, and he'd taken it to heart. He'd just taken her philosophy to a whole other level. Alex demonstrated just enough evil genius that everybody secretly thought she'd really amount to something if she just applied herself, straightened up and flew right. Max, they'd given up hope on entirely.

And that was how he wanted it, right? Because, really, who the hell was going to compete with Justin's brilliance and Alex's cunning? Can't win, don't try?

Eventually, still in his clothes and apron, he drifted off into a restless sleep, dreaming of Zeke and Harper, bound together at the ankle and running a desperate three-legged race through the Sub Station as they were chased by angry, fanged tomatoes, while Justin and Alex glared silently at each other over the front counter.


	4. Chapter 4

**iv.**

Max awoke suddenly, in the middle of the night. His entire body felt charged, electrified. Which could only mean one of two things: either he'd had that wet dream about Sonny Munroe and Tawni Hart making it with him in the hot tub again, or someone in the house had cast a spell. A quick check of his underpants confirmed the latter. Sitting upright, Max tossed his covers aside, swung his legs over the side of his bed, and proceeded to wade through the piles of dirty laundry and other assorted crap covering his floor. He laid his hand on the doorknob and twisted it ever-so-gently to the right, endeavoring to open the door with nary a sound, so that he could sneak down the hall to Alex's room, and—

And then suddenly he was back in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking to himself that whatever was going on in Alex's room wasn't really important, and that he should really go back to sleep and forget the whole thing. Yawning, he stretched his arms, closed his eyes and settled back into his pillow, already imagining the scandalized giggle that would escape Tawni Hart's lips as Sonny Monroe accidentally-on-purpose snagged the tie of her barely-there bikini top—

"Waaaaaaaaaaiiiiit a minute!"

Max sat bolt upright in bed, and scowled across the room at his doorknob. He pictured himself getting up, opening the door, and storming down the hall to Alex's room, where—

He found himself staring up at the ceiling again. Where had that brown stain come from, anyway? Oh right, the Nutella incident. Mmm, Nutella. He should go down to the kitchen right now and fix himself a Nutella sandwich, which would be much more interesting than anything that might be going on in Alex's room...

"Uh-huh, just like I thought," Max sighed as he sat back up and looked at his doorknob again. "Classic keep-away spell."

OK, so clearly something was going on in Alex's room that somebody didn't want him to see. Which, mission-from-Dad or no mission-from-Dad, meant that he really, really wanted to see it. But how? Clearly, he wasn't going to able to simply mosey on down to Alex's room, and—

"Oh, goddammit," Max groaned, as he found himself staring at the ceiling again, overcome with the urge to coat Sonny Monroe head-to-toe in Nutella, and lick it all off. (Because, hello? Two great tastes that taste great together? Um, yes please.)

OK, this was getting annoying. Somehow, he had to figure out a way to see what was going on you-know-where without him actually having to even think about going anywhere _near_ you-know-where. If only there was a spell for that...

Wait, hold the phone. There _was_ a spell for that, wasn't there?

Sitting up and snatching his wand off his nightstand, knocking aside about a half-case's worth of empty Mountain Dew cans in the process, Max pointed it at the photo of himself and his family from Puerto Rico (in their matching orange vacation outfits) that sat on his dresser, and struggled to remember a spell that Conscience had tried to teach him three or four months ago.

_"Please, please, tell me now,"_ he said uncertainly. _"Is there something I should know... uh...Duranium, Duranias?"_

For a second, nothing happened, and Max was convinced he'd gotten the spell wrong. (Because, seriously, _'Duranium, Duranias'_? Yeah, that couldn't be right.) But then, as if the laws of physics and probability had simply shrugged and said _' sure, kid, whatever'_, the image in the frame began to darken and swirl. Gone was the photo of Max and his family in terrible patterned polyester, replaced by a direct live feed from Alex's bedroom. Where, apparently, Justin was dodging for dear life in the darkness as Alex snatched her digital alarm clock off her nightstand and hurled it at him.

_"Get out!"_ Alex snarled at him, angrier than Max had ever seen her. Which was saying something.

_"I'm sorry!"_ Justin said, holding his hands out before him. _"I didn't mean to—!"_

_"GET OUT!"_ Alex growled again, loud enough that Max heard it in stereo, both through the picture frame as well as reverberating down the hall. She grabbed hold of her lamp this time, and cocked her arm as if to throw it.

_"I didn't mean to wake you up!"_ Justin protested, even as he cringed. _"I was hoping not to, actually!"_

_"Oh, so what?"_ Alex sneered, lowering the lamp slightly. _"You were just gonna sneak in here and slip it to me while I was asleep? Is that it?"_

Max frowned at this. Wait, slip it to her? Oh man, he hoped she was just talking about Justin giving her a wet willie...

_"What? No! I'd never—!"_ Justin said, in that breathy, scandalized voice of his. And even to Max, he sounded phenomenally hurt. _"Do you really think I'd—?"_

Alex watched him for a moment, silently, then slumped her shoulders and set the lamp back down on her nightstand.

_"No,"_ she admitted quietly, then snorted. _"You're way too much of a goody two-shoes for that, aren't you?"_

Justin chuckled bitterly, and shook his head. _"I can't win with you, can I?"_

_"Never have, never will,"_ Alex said, matter-of-factly, lying back down and gathering her sheets around herself. _"What are you doing here, Justin?"_

Justin shrugged, almost imperceptibly. _"I couldn't sleep."_

_"So? How's that my problem?"_ Alex scoffed, rolling over onto her side, turning her back to him. _"Go tug one out and leave me alone already, egghead. You know how. God knows, I've watched you do it often enough."_

Max's eyebrows jumped so high on his forehead that they threatened to launch into orbit. Wow. OK, so they were _definitely_ not talking about wet willies, anymore.

_"That's not why I'm here, Alex,"_ Justin said, his voice raw with emotion. _"I just...I wanted to hold you. That's all."_

Alex didn't respond right away, and for a moment, as Justin stared at her helplessly, Max wondered if she'd actually fallen asleep again. But then, just as Justin's shoulders slumped in defeat and it looked like he was about to turn around and leave the room, Alex sighed dramatically and reached behind her to lift up the corner of her covers.

_"Get in here, already,"_ she growled, without turning to face him, _"before I change my mind."_

Justin grinned in relief, then hurried to crawl into bed next to her, spooning his body into hers as she dropped the covers over him.

_"This doesn't mean you're forgiven, egghead,"_ she said pointedly, although most of the heat had gone out of her voice. _"I'm still mad at you."_

_"I know,"_ Justin said, as he nuzzled the back of her neck. _"I'm frustrated, too."_

_"Just not frustrated enough,"_ Alex scoffed bitterly.

_"Alex, c'mon...that's not fair, and you know it,"_ Justin sighed. _"You know I'd do anything for you. There isn't a law I wouldn't break, no consequence I wouldn't accept, if it meant being with you. But asking me to magically banish our little brother to fend for himself for three days, just so we can spend the weekend screwing like rabbits? That's a bit frivolous, don't you think?"_

At this, Max's jaw dropped so hard that he was certain they must have heard it hit the floor all the way down the hall. Holy crap, so _that's_ why they wanted to send him to South Dakota?

_"You didn't have a problem with _me_ doing the dirty work, though,"_ Alex pointed out, oblivious. And the fact that she wasn't the least bit shocked by Justin's pronouncement in the least was almost more shocking than the pronouncement itself.

_"Well, no,"_ Justin admitted, the covers rising slightly as he shrugged his shoulders beneath them. _"You have to admit, though: it _is_ kind of what you're good at."_

_"Aaaaaaand we're back to wanting to kick your ass out, again..."_ said Alex.

_"Wait a minute, wait a minute!"_ Justin said quickly, sounding a little panicked. _"I don't mean that in a bad way. It's just...all this sneaking around we've been having to do, all the lies we've had to tell, all the rules we're breaking...it doesn't come as naturally to me as it does to you, Alex. If anything, it goes __against_ my nature, and I'm still...adjusting, I guess."

They lapsed into silence again for a moment, their breathing the only sound coming from the picture frame. Max stared at it in absolute shock, senses reeling, feeling sick to his stomach as the immensity of what he'd discovered began to sink in, threatening to turn his entire world upside down.

_"I suppose it does kind of fly in the face of your whole, dorky _'What would Captain Jim Bob Sherwood do?'_ philosophy, doesn't it?"_ Alex said finally.

"Uh, no shit!" Max muttered to himself.

_"Just a tad, yeah,"_ Justin agreed with him flatly, even though he wasn't aware of it. _"For one thing, I'm pretty sure the Comics Code Authority tends to frown on this sort of thing."_

_"I have absolutely no clue what that even means,"_ Alex said, shaking her head. Then, after a moment, she added: _"I wasn't going to charm him, y'know. Even if I'd had my wand. I was just planning to talk him into being somewhere else for the weekend. I'm not a _complete_ sociopath, thank you very much."_

Max snorted at this and shook his head sharply at the way she managed to say that with a straight face while _spooning in bed with their older brother_. Because, dude, seriously...

_"Wow, bonus points for your correct use of the word 'sociopath',"_ Justin said, impressed.

_"Ugh, Justin..."_ Alex groaned impatiently.

_"Look, if it's really that important to you, I can always flash him to the Beekerman Jamboree,"_ Justin continued. _"We'll send a note with him for Harper, so she can cover. Max'll be pissed when he wakes up there, sure, but at least we'd know where he was, and I think he'd probably have a good time in the long run, anyway."_

Max's breath caught in his throat, as he reflexively tightened his grip around his wand, his mind racing to remember if he'd ever been taught a way to guard against being teleported against his will. It sounded like the kind of thing Dad would have covered, but...crap. For probably the first time in his life, he found himself wishing he paid closer attention during Wizard Lessons.

_"No, it's OK,"_ Alex sighed in resignation. _"We really do need Max's help with the Sub Station, anyway. There's no way in hell we could have managed all that today without him."_

_"True,"_ Justin agreed. _"I hate to admit it, but it was probably wishful thinking to believe that we could."_

Loosening his hold on his wand, Max let out a small breath in a combination of relief and surprise. Huh. OK, so maybe Justin hadn't been P-wording him, after all...

_ "Besides, I don't wanna ruin Harper's weekend, either,"_ Alex continued. _"I honestly think the main reason she went in the first place was to get away from magical shenanigans for a few days..."_

_"Hello, what's this?"_ Justin teased her. _"Alex Russo, acting all responsible? Putting the needs of others ahead of her own? Who are you, strange lady, and what have you done with my baby sister-slash-girlfriend?"_

"Gah!" Max said, actually wincing and sticking out his tongue at this. Because yeah, while he'd gotten there on his own, thanks, actually hearing Justin confirm it out loud? Eyyugh.

_"Shut up, jackass. You're not the only one operating outside your comfort zone, here,"_ Alex snapped, elbowing him in the ribs. _"Though I can't tell you how pissed I am that Harper and Zeke, of all people, are going to wind up getting laid more often this weekend than I am."_

"Ugh, that is _really_ not something I want to think about," Justin groaned, wincing as he pressed his forehead against Alex's shoulder. _"Seriously. Way to kill my boner."_

"Aw, dude...," Max grimaced, wrenching his eyes shut against the sudden visual he really hadn't needed. "No. Just...no."

_"Just as well,"_ Alex yawned, twisting around to look at him over her shoulder. _"My ass is beat, and we need to be up again in just a few hours."_

_"Yeah,"_ Justin groaned. _"Stupid restaurant."_

_"Stupid Canadian tourists,"_ Alex griped.

_"Stupid Max,"_ they both added in the same breath. Then, laughing quietly, they both lifted their heads off their pillows, craned their necks, and pressed their lips together in a soft, chaste goodnight kiss...

And that, finally, was about as much as Max could stand. He grabbed the edge of the picture frame and slammed it down onto his nightstand, hard enough that he heard glass crunch beneath. Swinging his legs off his bed, he stormed furiously across his room, grabbed the knob and yanked it open. And this time he didn't wind up back in bed, staring up at the brown Nutella stain on his ceiling, or fantasizing about all the terrible things he'd do to Sonny Monroe, given even half a chance.

Because whatever it was going on in Alex's room at that particular moment? Yeah, definitely not something that he wanted any part of, thanks. 


	5. Chapter 5

**v.**

Sitting alone in the dark of the living room, with his feet propped up on the coffee table, Max stared vacantly ahead at the at the blank television screen. His thumbs flew over the PS3 controller in his hands, completely on autopilot, proving his whole theory about muscle memory. But Max barely noticed, being so totally preoccupied with the jumble of thoughts running through his head...which was somewhat of a new experience for him.

And the single most prominent thought he had, the one he kept coming back to? _"Well, duh."_

Because, seriously...probably the most surprising thing about all this was how utterly _not_ surprised he felt. Of _course_ Justin and Alex were dating, or in love, or whatever. It wasn't like this was right out of left field, or anything. Hell, anyone with half a brain who spent more than five minutes together with them could see there was something more going on between them than just sibling rivalry. There always had been. It was plain in the way they always inevitably gravitated towards each other even though they swore up and down that they could barely stand to be in the same room, and the way each one's life subtly revolved around the other, despite their insistence that they didn't even want anything to do with one another.

Everybody commented on it, sooner or later. Harper continually called it a love-hate relationship, _"or at least a love-antagonize relationship"_, much to Alex's eternal chagrin. Conscience had said once they shared an interesting slap-slap-kiss dynamic, earning Max a scowling admonishment from Justin that he spent too much time surfing TV Tropes. (Because, dude, _So Random_? Wicked awesome fetish fuel page!) And even Professor Crumbs had observed to Dad—right after they'd reversed the spell that had turned him into a guinea pig—that the two of them reminded him more than a little of Tracy and Hepburn, or possibly Bonnie and Clyde.

To everyone else, it was remarkable...or, at least, something out of the ordinary enough to be remarked upon. But to Max, it simply..._was_. A completely normal part of everyday life since the day he'd been born, that the rest of the world just happened to find extraordinary. Y'know, just like magic.

Magic is real, and his older brother and sister are hot for each other? _"Well, duh."_

The kissing and the cuddling and all the sex stuff, though? _That_ was new, and it was blowing his mind, just a little.

Well...on second thought, maybe not the cuddling, so much. Alex and Justin always _did_ have a tendency to hug it out whenever they made up after a fight, which was often. Or whenever one of them had their heart broken or suffered a setback of any kind. Or whenever they came through a tough scrape together...which again, given Alex's penchant for messing up, was a pretty regular thing. Or whenever—

OK, so yeah...the cuddling? Not exactly new.

And come to think of it, the kissing wasn't entirely new, either. Sure, it had been awhile, but when they were kids, how many times had they dressed Max up like a priest so he could pronounce them man and wife? How often had he played the parts of all seven dwarves while Prince Charming woke Snow White from her apple-induced coma? And how many summers had they spent reenacting every scene from the _Star Wars_ movies over and over again on the terrace, even the stupid, boring mushy ones that Max didn't care about? Hell, now that he stopped to think about it, Alex and Justin had practically been kissing their way through Max's entire childhood!

The sex stuff, though..._that_ was new, though, wasn't it? Sure, there'd been plenty of tickle fights. And water balloon fights. And pillow fights. And wrestling in pajamas, or in the pool at the rec center as they made half-hearted attempts to drown each other. And yeah, Alex tended to tackle Justin on the couch, and bounce up and down on him to make him nauseous until she got her way about something. And then there was the way that one of them walked in on the other in the bathroom at least once a month, sometimes more, while Max couldn't remember either of them having walked in on him, ever...

"Oh, holy crap," Max groaned, pressing 'pause' on the controller and bringing his hands up to his face to grind the heels of his palms into his eyes. Yeah, so even the sex stuff? Not so new. Gross, sure...but not new.

Also, while he was on the subject? Not nearly as gross as it occured to Max it probably should be, either. Not sickeningly wrong, for instance, like the way he felt when Alex ordered pineapple on pizza. And not gag-inducingly disgusting, like when the person who used the stall in the boys' room before him had forgotten to flush, or he noticed a pube stuck to the bar of soap in the shower. (Ugh, barf.)

No, it was more like that vague sense of embarrassed discomfort that came over him when he caught a glimpse of their parents making out, sometimes, when they thought their kids weren't looking: revolting, certainly, but oddly, comfortingly _right_ at the same time. Necessary to his existence, even. Like air, or cupcakes. And wow, how messed up was it that he equated the two? (His parents and Justin/Alex, that was, not air and cupcakes. Duh.) In a way, though, it almost made a sick kind of sense. After all, hadn't both been couples for as long as Max could remember?

_"Well, duh."_

Man, no wonder he'd always felt like such a third wheel around them. How could he not?

Max heaved a heavy sigh and shook his head as he picked up his controller and pressed 'pause' again. Alright, so his brother and sister? Totally dating, or in love, or whatever. Apparently, on some level, he'd always known about it, even if he hadn't exactly known that he'd known. And surprisingly? He was OK with it, which probably meant he was just as sick in the head as they were.

So what to do about it? Pretend he didn't know? Act oblivious? Go out of his way to deliberately misread the situation, the way he did with practically everything else in his life? Or—?

Frowning as a sudden thought struck him, Max glanced up at the ceiling just below where he knew Alex's room to be.

—or was this a chance to prove himself? To be more than just a third wheel? To finally come into his own, and do something that neither Justin nor Alex could do?

_"Well, duh."_

A smile spread slowly across Max's face as he tossed the controller aside on the couch, then stood up and tugged his wand out of the back pocket of his jeans. Justin's keep-away spell was still in effect, so going upstairs to you-know-where was out of the question, but casting the spell on the floor beneath them should be good enough for what he had in mind. Granted, the _last_ time he'd done this, it hadn't been on purpose, his powers not being entirely under control at the time, but it _ought_ to work. Well, probably.

Grinning to himself, he raised his arm to aim the tip of his wand at the ceiling, and took a deep breath, trying to figure out how best to word the spell...


	6. Chapter 6

**vi.**

Justin woke first, wincing against the morning sun that shone onto his eyelids through the narrow slats of Alex's mini-blinds, then again at the pins-and-needles sensation in his arm where it lay pinned between her pillow and the mattress. Curled up next to him, Alex snored lightly, the way she always did, although she was loathe to admit it. And though his arm was screaming at him, Justin spent a few moments just watching her sleep, in awe of how deceptively peaceful and innocent she could look when she wasn't, y'know, conscious.

Yawning, Justin pressed his lips gently against her temple, then slowly sat up and eased his arm out from beneath her head. He hissed painfully through his teeth as he tried to shake the feeling back into it, then grunted in surprise as Alex swung her own arm at him, jabbing him lazily in the ribs with her elbow.

"Sh'dup," she muttered sleepily into her pillow. "Too early...sleepin'..."

Justin snorted at her and shook his head. He reached up to scrub his face with both hands in an attempt to wake himself up, then glanced over at the alarm clock on her nightstand to see just how much longer he could let her sleep. Or at least he would have, if the clock was still there. Which it wasn't, of course, having been thrown across the room at his head the night before.

"Oh, no," Justin groaned, hurriedly reaching down to throw the sheets off himself. "Alex? Honey, it's time to get up. Your alarm didn't go off. I think we overslept."

"Nggggh," Alex grunted, reaching down to draw the covers over her head.

"Alex, I mean it! Get a move on!" Justin said loudly, sounding more and more panicked by the second as he rushed towards her bedroom door. "We have to get Max up and get the Sub Station open! Dad'll flip if one of the regulars tells him that we opened la—"

He broke off suddenly as he opened the door and stared in shock at what lay beyond.

"The hell—?" Blinking, he shook his head sharply, closed the door, then opened it again. "Uh, Alex...?"

"Jus' five more min's, mom," Alex muttered from beneath the covers.

Grimacing in confusion, Justin turned to look at her over his shoulder. "Honey, seriously...I think you'd better come have a look at this."

"Ugh! God!" Alex growled, angrily thrusting the sheets up and off herself as she sat bolt upright. "Fine, I'm up! Now what the hell is so goddamned important that you won't stop yammering for two lousy seconds to—"

She stopped in midsentence, her mouth hanging open as Justin stepped aside from the door, opening it wide so that she could see through it. There, where the hallway leading to the bathroom should be, was a long, empty stretch of dusty highway. Next to it, about three meters away, stood a white road sign with a forest green border, rocking gently in the breeze.

_'Welcome to South Dakota,'_ it read in red cursive at the top. Then, in green again at the bottom, below a yellow caricature of Mount Rushmore: _'Great Faces, Great Places.'_

"South Dako—?" Alex asked, blinking up at her brother. "Justin, what the hell did you do?"

"_Me?_ I was just about to ask you the same question!" Justin said.

"I don't even have my wand, dorkus! And why on God's green earth would I send us to freakin' South Dakota?" Alex snorted.

"Who knows why you do anything? You were trying to send Max there just the day before yesterday!" Justin frowned in puzzlement as he stared at the sign, stroking his chin . "Although, I _did_ place a repellent ward on the door last night before I woke you up, just in case. Maybe I screwed it up? Had South Dakota on the brain, or something?"

"No, it wasn't you," Alex groaned, wincing and pressing her forehead into Justin's shoulder as a sudden realization struck her. "It's Max, egghead. He's pranking us."

"Ugh, you're probably right," Justin said, casting a glance around the room to locate the wand he'd dropped the night before, when Alex threw her clock at him. "We _did_ kinda have a fight right after we closed last night..."

"And South Dakota's obviously a dig at me. He must still be pissed that I tried to send him away." Alex spied the blunt end of his wand sticking out from behind the door, and bent down to scoop it up. "Here, I've got it, let me: _Though South Dakota's swell and all, I'd rather exit to the hall._"

And though she twirled the wand in the air as she said it, and the tip of it flared chartreuse, the view through the doorway didn't change. Justin and Alex blinked at each other before Justin held out his hand for the wand.

_"Great Faces, Great Places, return us to our rightful space...es,"_ he tried, after she'd reluctantly handed it to him. Again, the end of the wand flared brightly, but to no avail.

"Give me that!" Alex snapped, snatching it out of his grasp. "_'Space...es?'_ Really? God, your make-'em-ups are always so lame! You even rhyme like a dork!"

"Hey, it's not like yours worked either," Justin grumbled. "Believe it or not, I think Max must have actually used a spell lock."

"Yeah well, it'll be a cold day in hell before Max Russo, of all people, manages to out-criminal-genius _me_," Alex sneered, waving his wand in the air again. "I'll just flash us over to _his_ room, then pound on him until he promises to undo it."

The tip of the wand flared for a third time, only to leave them standing there staring at each other. Still in her room, the road sign rattling gently in the breeze just outside the door.

Over the next several minutes, passing the wand back and forth between them, they tried a few other things in turn—phasing themselves through the wall or the floor, or going out the window—but none of it worked. All roads, it appeared, led to South Dakota.

"Wow," Justin said, impressed despite himself. "Max really thought this one through, for once."

"What, seriously?" Alex snarled in frustration. "So you're telling me our little brother has really trapped us somewhere at the ass end of Buttmunch, Nowheresville?"

"Well, no. Technically speaking, we're actually trapped in your room on Waverly Place," Justin pointed out. "We haven't gone anywhere. The door's just been enchanted to act as a portal, is all. Y'know, just like how the freezer door in the Sub Station leads into the lair, instead of—"

He broke off at Alex's impatient glare, as she crossed her arms beneath her breasts.

"Yeah, OK," he amended with a shrug. "For all intents and purposes, until Max decides otherwise or the spell wears off on its own, we are indeed stuck in the middle of Buttmunch, Nowheresville."

"Well, isn't that _just_ perfect?" Alex groused, stalking across the room and throwing herself down angrily onto the bed. "As if I'm not grounded enough, as it is? Mom and Dad will completely lose their shit once it gets back to them that we didn't open the Sub Station today. And you just know it's _me_ they're gonna blame. Even if Dad _doesn't_ lose my wand at Grandma's, I'm _so_ never getting it back."

"Er, you don't think Max would try to run the place by _himself_, do you?" Justin asked from the doorway, concerned. "Because somehow I think that might actually be worse..."

Lying on her stomach, her arms crossed beneath her chin, Alex cocked a skeptical eyebrow up at him. "What, are you kidding me? Max has probably forgotten we even _have_ a restaurant. I guarantee you he's sitting on the couch right now, still pretending to play that stupid video game like the little retard he is."

"Ugh, you really don't know how much I wish you'd stop using the word 'retard'," Justin scolded her automatically, even as he began casting his grey eyes methodically around the room. "Seriously, Alex. It's like you have no concept of just how offensive it is..."

"Oh, please!" Alex rolled her own eyes towards the ceiling. "Whatever, dude. You might wanna plug your ears and sing 'lalala' for a bit, then, because as far as saying offensive things about Max goes, I'm just getting warmed up."

"Ah, here we go," Justin said, smiling lightly as his gaze fell upon a framed photo of Harper and Alex that sat on her dresser. Crossing the room in three strides, he picked it up in one hand, and pointed his wand at it with the other. "Yeah, this'll do nicely."

"What're you doing?" Alex asked, frowning.

"The _Picture This_ spell," Justin replied, twirling his wand around his finger. "It's relatively simple, low-level scrying magic, the kind of thing I ought to be able to cast in my sleep. So if this doesn't work, we know he's somehow managed to cancel out our powers altogether."

Alex blanched at this, as though the possibility hadn't even occurred to her. "You really think Max could do that?"

"Guess we'll find out," Justin shrugged. "Besides, I kind of want to check on him, anyway. Max unsupervised equals fire hazard. Not opening on time could actually be the least of our worries."

Watching eagerly as Justin recited the spell, Alex breathed a sigh of relief as the tip of his wand flared white, and the image of her and Harper began to swirl and darken in the frame, replaced by a wide view of the Sub Station...which was not only open for business, but actually bustling with customers. Clad in a t-shirt and apron, Max darted from table to table, with pen and order pad in hand.

"Oh no," Justin groaned, wincing as though the scene before him was actually causing him physical pain. "This can't possibly end well..."

Getting up on her knees on the bed, Alex leaned on Justin as she peered over his shoulder, and gasped in surprise. "Ohmigod! Is Max actually _waiting tables?_"

"Apparently, he's doing _everything_," said Justin. He squinted and craned his neck to peer closely into the frame. "Waiting, bussing, making sandwiches...look, some people have their subs, already..."

"And they're actually _eating_ them!" Alex said in amazement. "On purpose! And nobody's puking! Or throwing them back at him for getting their orders wrong, or anything! Jesus Christ, Justin...that lady there actually looks like she's _enjoying_ hers! How the hell is this even _possible?_"

"He must be using magic, somehow," Justin replied, grimacing deeply. "It's the only explanation. We barely managed with three of us yesterday, and look: it's easily just as busy now as it was then. I just hope he's been discreet about it, because if he winds up exposing his powers to a whole restaurant full of mortals, there's gonna be hell to—"

"Wait wait wait!" Alex squealed, cutting him off as she pointed frantically at the frame. "See that? Is that...is that _me?_"

Indeed it was. As Alex and Justin watched, _another_ Alex walked into frame from the left, carrying Max's bussing tray, and set about clearing Table 9 just seconds after it had been vacated. She glanced up at Max as he passed, on his way back to the kitchen, having just finished taking an order at Table 7.

_"Max, Justin says your order for Table 3 is up,"_ she told him.

_"Right on, thanks,"_ Max grinned, then jerked his head towards the front of the Sub Station. _"I noticed a couple tables in the subway car that could stand to be wiped down, too."_

_"I'm on it,"_ faux-Alex nodded, giving him a tight smile, then gave Table 9 one last quick buff with her dishrag before she hurried out of frame. And side-by-side in her room, somewhere just outside of South Dakota, Justin and the real Alex stared in silence for a long moment, stunned, before Alex turned to her brother and pinched him on the arm, hard.

"OW!" Justin shouted as he jerked away from her, nearly dropping the frame in the process. "What the hell was that for?"

"I just wanted to make sure you weren't dreaming," Alex growled, pointing angrily at the frame, "because there is no way in hell I'd ever let _Max_ get away with ordering _me_ to bus tables in anywhere but _your_ sick and twisted imagination!"

"Alex..." Justin sighed, rolling his eyes as he reached up to rub his sore arm.

"No seriously, what the hell? Bussing tables is _his_ job! I don't even clean up after _myself_ when I eat there! And did you see how I was dressed? Why the hell do I have on that orange polyester fashion nightmare that Mom made us all wear on vacation? I could have sworn I burned that thing!"

"Well, if I had to venture a guess," Justin mused, "I'd say Max most likely pulled a duplicate of you out of that photo we all took before we got on the plane to go back home. In fact, I'd almost guarantee that there's a double of me in the kitchen, too, making sandwiches and dressed exactly the same."

"Oh, sweet zombie Jesus..." Alex groaned, hanging her head. "This day just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it? God, I just hope nobody I know from school comes in and sees us...them...whatever. Of all the pictures to pull us out of, why'd he have to pick _that_ one?"

"It's actually a pretty inspired choice, if you think about it," Justin said thoughtfully, his eyes a thousand miles away as the gears of his giant nerd-brain turned behind them. "You'd just gotten us back after watching us both get sucked up into that freaky tornado thing, remember? And you were so wracked with guilt and grateful we weren't gone for good...it's probably the only time in your entire life that he'd actually be _able_ to talk you into bussing tables for him. Heck, I bet you would have agreed to almost any—hmmm."

"Yeah, relax there, Pervy McPerverson," Alex snapped as she bumped her hip against his side. "Don't get any bright ideas. Vacation!Alex, there, is almost a whole year younger than me. She hasn't completely lost her mind and fallen in love with your dorky butt, yet."

"Oh, whatever. You were already _so_ into me by that point, and we both know it," Justin scoffed. He tilted his head to one side and pressed his free hand to his chest, over his heart. _"'Oh Justin—sniffle, sniffle!—you're everything I've ever wanted to be! I'm __sooooooo_ jealous of how awesome you are! Please don't ever_ leave me...!'"_

"HEY!" Alex yelled, and actually swatted at his head. "I thought we agreed you weren't gonna bring that up, anymore?"

"Right, right...sorry," Justin chuckled, holding up one hand to wave her off, even as he struggled to surpress a grin. "Won't happen again."

"Argh, this is so typically Max!" Alex snarled. "It doesn't make any goddamned sense. Why trap us up here, only to clone us and have _them_ help him run the Station instead? He doesn't come out ahead at all, so why bother?"

"We're not supposed to know about that last part, though, are we? The duplicates helping him, I mean," Justin pointed out, then shrugged. "Maybe he just wants us to think he didn't need us. That he could do it all himself."

"I...guess?" Alex said. "I mean, we did both kind of drive home the point that we didn't need _him_ at all, so..."

"So maybe he's just trying to prove himself," Justin concluded. "Then again, there is a second possibility..."

"Yeah? Which is...?"

"Well...he _did_ know that we wanted him out of the way this weekend," Justin said hesitantly, even as he tried to work it out for himself. "That we wanted to be alone together, for some reason..."

Alex blinked at this, then narrowed her eyes at him and snorted. "What, are you trying to say that you think he knows? Because, dude, it's _Max_. I had him convinced that you were our butler until he was, like, six."

"Yeah, I know, but...see, Conscience made this off-hand comment once, a couple months back. About our whole slap-slap-kiss dynamic, or something, just before he got integrated back into Max, and—"

"Oh wow, you too?" Alex said, as she back on her haunches and narrowed her eyes in memory. "Because I didn't say anything at the time—I mean, we hadn't actually even told _each other_ yet—but now that you mention it, I definitely got the feeling that Conscience suspected there was something going on. Like, that we had a thing for one another, or whatever."

"And if Conscience had suspicions, then that means Max did, too. Or does now, anyway. At the very least, he knows _something's_ up."

"So, what? You think by doing all this—" Alex waved her arm vaguely around the room, taking in both their magical window into the Sub Station, and the doorway to South Dakota—"that he's trying to, like, catch us in the act, or something? See what we do if we think we can get away with it?"

"Well, he _did_ say he was spying on you for Dad, but...this is way too elaborate a plan for Max. And besides, why give us a heads up that he was spying on you in the first place, then?" Justin reached up and scratched his head, considering. "No, the more I think about it, the more I think he's just trying to kill two birds with one stone..."

"Oh, I'll show him a dead bird or two," Alex growled, reaching for Justin's wand. "One fricasseed turkey, coming right up!"

"Nonono, that's not what I mean," Justin said as he grabbed Alex's wrist to stop her. "I _do_ think he's honestly aiming to prove himself. But at the same time, maybe he's also...I dunno...trying help us out, a little? Cut us a break? Give us a chance to, uh... y'know, 'get down to stuff'?"

"Really," Alex said, clearly skeptical. "Like, he's just OK with it, or whatever. This is really what's going through that big brain of yours."

"Well, which do _you_ think sounds more like Max?" Justin put to her. "Sell us out, or help us cover?"

Alex pursed her lips in silence for a moment as she considered this. "It _has_ always kind of been the three of us against the world, hasn't it?"

Justin nodded. "And did Conscience say or do anything to give you the impression that either of them disapproved?"

"No," Alex admitted. "If anything, I got the feeling that he thought we were...kind of sweet, maybe?"

"Me too," Justin agreed. "Look, third wheel or not, Max does tend to roll _with_ us, Alex."

"Agh, dude," Alex winced. "Seriously. I'm already sleeping with you. _Please_ stop trying to be cool to impress me."

Justin grinned, and cast one last glance at the scene in the picture frame. Satisfied that the Sub Station wasn't in any danger of catching on fire, at least not for the next few minutes, he placed it face-down on the dresser, then sat down on the bed at her feet.

"Well, either way, it looks like you and I have managed to fall ass-backwards into at least one day off," he sighed. "Granted, we'll either have to spend it cooped up in your room together, or thumbing a ride into Buttmunch, Nowheresville..."

"Cooped up in my—?" Alex propped herself up on her elbows, her eyebrows raised in stunned disbelief. Then, smiling and shaking her head fondly, she sat the rest of the way up and curled her legs beneath her as she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his midsection and laying her head on his shoulder.

"Um, hello?" Alex whispered into his ear, slowly and deliberately, as though she were explaining something to a small child. "Spending the weekend in bed together? Kind of the point of the whole failed _'get Max out of the house'_ scheme. Yes/no?"

"Oh. Hey, yeah," Justin blinked, even as Alex gently nipped his earlobe, and started trailing tiny kisses down along his jaw. "I mean...after we take some reasonable precautions, of course..."

"Way ahead of you, egghead," Alex grinned wickedly into his neck. "Check the top drawer of my nightstand. There's a blindfold and a pair of fuzzy handcuffs in there, too, if you're up for it."

Justin looked at her blankly as he leaned over to grab his wand off the dresser. "Sound proofing, Alex. An anti-scrying ward or two. Just because Max may on our side is no reason to be indiscreet."

"Whatever, Mom," Alex said, rolling her eyes. Then, smiling as she nuzzled his ear: "Sound proofing, egghead? Planning to be loud, are we?"

"With a blindfold and fuzzy handcuffs in the mix?" Justin grinned as he held up his wand. "Count on it."

Tilting her chin towards him with his free hand, he kissed her hungrily, the tip of his wand flaring bright orange as he twirled it in the air with the other...

And leaning against the counter of the Sub Station, holding a picture frame in both hands, Max grinned as the live feed from Alex's room suddenly cut out, to be replaced by a photo of him and his family in their matching vacation outfits, albeit with two of them missing. Well, at least somebody was having a good time this weekend. And he had to admit, they actually _were_ sort of sweet together, in a gross kind of way...

"The tuna melt for Table Six is up, Max," Vacation!Justin said from the kitchen, where he was making sammiches like a freakin' mofo in his patterened orange polyester shirt. "You have anything else for me?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, I need a sixteen on white, with extra olives on the side for table two," Max said, setting down the frame and consulting his order pad. "Or, wait...maybe that was a two on white for table sixteen? Man, I should probably start writing some of this stuff down..."

"_'Start writing some of this—?'_" Vacation!Justin blinked at him through the passthrough. "Max, what have you been using your pad for all afternoon, then?"

"Oh, check it out! I keep getting lost in _Halloween Sorority Party Disaster 4.5_, so I've been drawing up a map of the sorority house from memory. See?" Max held up his pad so Vacation!Justin could see it, then proudly tapped the corner of it with his pen. "Finally figured out _that's_ where I left the chainsaw!"

"But...didn't you say you were playing it from a hint book?" Vacation!Justin asked, puzzled. "Wouldn't there be a map in there?"

"Oh wow, yeah," Max blinked. "Man, I didn't even think to look for one. Well geez, I guess I don't need these anymore, do I?"

Vacation!Justin stared at him open-mouthed as he tossed his pad and pen over his shoulder, then brushed his hands together as if dusting them off.

"Max! Yes, you do! You were going to use them to write down the—!" Breaking off, Vacation!Justin exhaled sharply and shook his head at his younger brother. "You're messing with me, right? Tell me you're messing with me. Because you can't seriously be _this_ oblivious..."

One corner of Max's mouth turned up in a smirk, and he shrugged.

"Sometimes," he said. "But only when I need to be."

Then, whistling to himself, he turned on his heel to head back to table twelve, to double-check whether or not they wanted olives on their number six.


	7. Chapter 7

**vii.**

Max's spell lasted until Monday night, just after closing time, giving Justin and Alex two whole, luxurious days to laze around, make love, and just enjoy one another freely in the privacy of her room. Every few hours, food would magically appear on Alex's desk like clockwork, much to their surprise, reinforcing Justin's belief that Max was on their side. Funnily enough, though, the only drinks he sent up with the subs were bottles and bottles of Gatorade, as though he were worried that dehydration might become an issue.

If anything, the opposite proved to be true: going to the bathroom was initially a bit of a puzzler, since they couldn't simply walk down the hall, proving that Max hadn't thought of absolutely everything. At first Alex was determined to fashion a rudimentary funnel out of sandwich wrap and make use of their scores of empty Gatorade bottles, before a scandalized Justin forced her to reluctantly venture through the door and find a bush by the side of the highway. Fortunately, the blindfold and handcuffs weren't the only surprises hiding in Alex's nightstand: it also contained a bottle of warming lube that doubled as hand sanitizer.

"It kind of goes hand in hand with the anal beads," she explained bashfully, and admitted to having spent some time shopping online with their mom's credit card in anticipation of their big weekend together, which is how she'd wound up being grounded in the first place. "You'd be amazed what you can find on Amazon."

And then Justin asked her how they worked, and they didn't talk for awhile. Well, not in complete sentences, anyway.

It was kind of a bittersweet moment when the _"Great Faces, Great Places"_ sign started to shimmer like a desert mirage in her doorway, gradually fading from view to reveal the upstairs hallway. Though sad to have to return to the real world, at the same time they were sore, spent and beyond sated. And the idea of actually being able to take a shower after two days of near-constant sticky sweatiness was heavenly. They raced each other down the hall to be first, then tumbled in together, and brazenly made love one last time, slowly and quietly, under the rush of the faucet. Then they toweled one another off, retreated to their separate bedrooms to get dressed, and met each other at the top of the stairs to creep down together, unsure of what awaited them.

Max sat alone in the living room, slumped on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, chin propped on his hand as he stared glumly at the dark TV screen. He barely looked up as his siblings sat down on either side of him.

"Oh, hey guys," he sighed.

Justin and Alex exchanged a look of concern over the top of his head before she spoke up. "Everything OK, Maxie?"

"Yeah, I guess," he shrugged. "Except I just finished the game, and the ending? It sucked sweaty donkey sac. It's not even an ending really. I mean, you don't even find out the secret behind the midget's mask! The whole thing's just a long, boring commercial for the next movie!"

He heaved a heavy sigh of disappointment, and tossed aside the hint book that was lying open in his lap. "Man, it's gonna be _such_ a waste of time and money when I can finally buy it in three years."

Frowning, Justin opened his mouth to point out that he didn't _have_ to buy it if he didn't want to, but Alex waved him off and pointedly jerked her head at Max, reminding him that there were more important things to discuss at the moment. Justin nodded at her, and awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Max, we, uh...we wanted to talk to you before Mom and Dad got home," he said, "about everything that happened this weekend."

Max blinked up at him. "Why, what happened? We worked ourselves to half to death at the Sub Station, you guys did your whole weird slap-slap-kiss routine the whole time, and I wasted two days doing something stupid that most people would probably think was completely insane. Sounds like your average weekend on Waverly Place to me."

He shrugged, then, and turned back to face the TV with a characteristically blank expression on his face. And for a second—just a second—they almost bought it, just like always. But, for once, they didn't roll their eyes or shake their heads at his practiced obliviousness, or facepalm over his apparent stupidity. Instead, they scrutinized him as they never had before, looking at their younger brother through narrowed eyes as though really seeing him for the first time.

"It wasn't stupid or insane, Maxie," Alex quietly grinned, her voice thick with emotion as she held her arms out and drew him into a hug. "In fact, it's just about the sweetest, most thoughtful thing anyone's ever done for either of us. Thank you."

"Yeah buddy, thanks," Justin added, awkwardly laying a hand on Max's shoulder. "We really appreciate it. Seriously."

"Uh...OK?" Max said uncertainly over Alex's shoulder, as he glanced from her to Justin and back. "Listen, if it means this much to you to avoid crummy movie tie-ins, then you'll want to stay the hell away from the _Avatar_ game, too. Because, man, that thing? Big steaming pile of crap."

"Wait, what?" Frowning, Alex pulled away and held him at arm's length, one eyebrow raised. "What are you talking about?"

"Video games, duh," Max replied. "What are _you_ talking about?"

Alex blinked at this, then looked past him to shoot a look of confusion at Justin.

"Max, it's OK," Justin chuckled. "We know that you know."

"Oh, right on," Max said, grinning over his shoulder at him. "Uh, am _I_ supposed to know that I know what you know that I know, though? Because, honestly? I don't know that I do..."

Justin's eyebrows knit themselves together in confusion, and his lips actually started moving silently as he tried to work this out for himself. Alex rolled her eyes and grunted in frustration. Reaching out to cup Max's chin in her hand, she turned his face back towards her.

"Max, seriously," she said. "We talked about it, and we're totally cool with you knowing. We trust you, more than anybody. You don't have to play dumb, for once."

_"Hello!"_ Jerry's voice called suddenly from downstairs, causing all three Russo children to freeze in their seats. _"Anybody home?"_

"Hey, somebody's gotta do it, right?" Max said quietly, with a wink. He reached out to give her hand a quick squeeze before he leaned over the back of the couch towards the stairs. "We're all up here, Dad!" he called.

"Ungh!" Jerry grunted, red-faced and out of breath as he struggled to navigate up the spiral staircase into the living room, while dragging the first of his wife's bags behind him. "I still don't understand what your mother needed all this stuff for. And why the hell do we have so many twisty stairs in this place, anyway?"

Justin, being who he was, leapt up off the couch immediately and hurried over to help. Alex waited until he was already halfway there before she stood up herself, as though she'd _wanted_ to help, but Justin had beaten her to it. Max didn't even take his feet off the coffee table.

"Thanks, son," Jerry said as Justin took the suitcase from him. "Wow, I thought for sure we'd come home and find you kids all still cleaning up the Sub Station after such a busy weekend, but it looks pretty spiffy down there. What, did you guys close up early tonight, or something?"

"Nah, usual time," Max replied smoothly, even as both Justin and Alex turned to look at him. "Alex helped me bus today, so it went a lot faster than usual."

"She _did_?" Jerry asked, staring at Alex in disbelief. "But she doesn't even clean up after _herself..._"

"That's nothing, Daddy," Alex beamed. "Max waited tables all weekend. And he was _awesome_ at it! You should have seen him!"

Jerry blinked. "He...what?"

"It's true, Dad," Justin said, nodding sagely. Then, off his father's look of skepticism: "No, really. There are witnesses, I swear."

Jerry looked blankly at each of his kids in turn, incredulous. "Wait, so Alex was bussing, and Max was competently waiting tables... so, is this Bizarro World I've come back to, or something? Because I'm almost afraid to ask whether Bizarro!Justin remembered to make the deposit, or not."

Justin's face fell, as all the color drained from it. "Uh..."

"Dad, c'mon," Max scoffed, a little more loudly than was absolutely necessary. "It's Justin. Of _course_ he made the deposit. Duhr."

"I did?" Justin blinked. Then, off Alex's look of exasperation: "Uh, I mean, I did! But only because Max...um...made me."

"Made you," Jerry repeated, looking at Max in surprise. "Really."

"Oh, totally," Alex broke in quickly, before Justin had an aneurism, or something. "Max really came through for us in a big, bad way, Daddy. In fact, I think it's fair to say we probably wouldn't have done it this weekend, without his help."

"Heh," Max and Justin grinned, almost in unison.

Jerry frowned. "Why is that funny?"

All three Russo children glanced at each other guiltily for a second, before turning their eyes back to their father.

"Uh, it's funny," Justin stammered, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck nonchalantly as he flushed a deep shade of red, "because of the, um...inherent irony—"

"Yeah, nobody cares, egghead," Alex cut him off, chuckling as she threw her arms around Jerry and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Welcome home, Daddy. We'll go help Mom bring up the rest of the luggage, OK?"

"Wait, you're actually _volunteering_ to help, now?" Jerry said, gaping at her. "Man, I really _have_ come back to Bizarro World, haven't I?"

Alex rolled her eyes as she pulled away from her father, and let out a sigh. "Seriously, people, I'm almost eighteen. Is it so incredibly hard for everyone to grasp that maybe I'm actually _maturing_, here? Besides, if this were Bizarro World, wouldn't Justin be, like, cool and good-looking?"

"Oh, har-har," Justin said flatly, grabbing her by the wrist and tugging her towards the stairs. "You am _so_ funny, Alex. Me am laughing hysterically. C'mon."

"Dork!" Alex giggled as they went bounding down the stairs, one after the other, without so much as a shove or an elbow to the ribs. Looking for all the world like two people who were content, even happy, to have spent the entire weekend in one another's presence. Jerry watched after them, his eyes narrowed in suspicion, then reached out and snagged the back of Max's collar as he tried to follow them.

"Hold up there a second, double-oh-seven," he said pointedly. "So what'd you find out?"

"Huh?" Max said, staring at him blankly. "Oh, you mean the—? Yeah, nothin', sorry."

"_Nothing?_" said Jerry. "After three whole days? Really?"

Max shrugged. "Well, nothing worthwhile, anyway. Turns out the whole thing's just a crummy tease. If you want, just read the hint book and skip playing the game altogether. In hindsight, I wish that's what I'd done."

"Hint b—? Max, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Video games, duh!" Max replied. "What are _you_ talking about?"

"Alex and Justin!" Jerry yelled in annoyance. Then, with a quick glance over his shoulder at the stairs, he lowered his voice to a whisper. "You were supposed to find out what's up with them, this weekend! Your mission, remember?"

"Oh, that! Yeah, that turned out to be an even bigger bust than the game, actually. I dunno where you got the idea that they might be in kazoos, or whatever—"

"Cahoots, Max," Jerry said patiently, closing his eyes. "The word is 'cahoots'."

"Well, whatever you thought they might be in, you were _way_ off," Max said.

"What, really?" Jerry asked. "There were no parties? No boys? No magic? No...shenanigans?"

"Not that I saw," Max said. "Honestly? It was pretty boring. Alex barely left her room for two days, and for all I saw him outside of the Sub Station, Justin might as well have been in another state, entirely."

"Oh," said Jerry, sounding almost disappointed. "So you're telling me that you guys opened and closed the Sub Station on time every day, Alex endured her punishment responsibly, like an adult, and there were absolutely no wacky hi-jinx of any kind to be had, magical or otherwise."

"Pretty much," Max nodded. "Like I said: _boring_."

"Huh," Jerry said, shaking his head. "Bizarro World. It's the only explanation."

"Or," Max said, holding up one finger, "maybe Alex is right, and we're all finally growing up and acting mature, and junk."

Jerry considered this for a moment. "Yeah, I'm really more inclined to go with my theory. Listen, can you go get Alex's wand back from wherever you hid it? I should probably give it back to her tonight, given that she inexplicably didn't break any actual rules this weekend..."

"Ohhhhhh yeah, about that," Max said with a wince. "Remember how you told me to stash it somewhere she wouldn't find it? But the lair seemed too obvious, right? So I...uh...hid it in the freezer downstairs, instead. Because, seriously, how often do we even use that door for that?"

Afraid that he knew where this was going, Jerry's shoulders slumped. "And...?"

"Yeah, I wouldn't go in there, if I were you," Max cautioned him. "Because what Alex's wand did to Grandma's tomatoes that one time? Walk in the park compared to what it's done to the imitation ham..."

"Uggggh, Max!" Jerry groaned, reaching up to cover his face with his palm. He heaved a long-suffering sigh as he shook his head and rolled his eyes at his youngest child. "So much for Bizarro World. I should have known an uneventful weekend was too much to hope for from you kids."

"You do have to admit, though," Max said, "on a scale of one to 'Uncle Kelbo is secretly Shakira', this actually ranks pretty low."

"The fact that we even _need_ a scale like that disturbs me more than you'll ever know, but you do have a point," Jerry groused. "Fine. I'll go get Justin. You grab your wand and meet us downstairs by the freezer so we can take care of this before your mother finds out."

And just like that, Jerry was headed down the stairs, focused on fixing yet another one of his kids' magical snafus, his suspicions about Justin and Alex—whatever they might be—completely forgotten, at least for the moment. Probably longer, once he actually saw what was waiting for them.

Max grinned to himself as he watched him go. It hadn't been easy to transmute imitation ham into the feral mutant pseudo-pig creature that was currently residing in the Sub Station's freezer, particularly not while using his sister's wand. (Y'know, just in case there was any truth to that whole 'tying the signature of an illegal spell to the wand that fired it for periods of up to twenty years' thing.) In fact, it had been just about the most difficult spell he'd ever attempted on his own. But screwing up on purpose had always been Max's forte, and once he'd finally gotten it down, it was also easily the most _satisfying_ thing he'd ever done with magic in his short life, too. (And not just because the pseudo-pig thing had turned out looking really gross and cool, either.)

No. It was because, for the first time in his life, Max Russo had a purpose, beyond making sure that everyone's expectations of him were acceptably low. Something to stand for. Fight for. Care about.

And OK, so that something? Kind of weird. And more than a little gross, if he stopped to think about it too hard. But at the same time, not so much. Because it was them, and it made them happy, and they were the two people he loved most in the entire world.

_"Well, duh."_

He wasn't ready to talk to them about it, yet—and he wasn't sure he ever would be, because dude, _effed up!_—but he could do this for them. _Would_ do this for them, because they _needed_ him to, even if they didn't know it yet. As much of a genius as Justin might have been, and as much of a criminal mastermind as Alex was, neither of them had anything on Max when it came to knowing how to hide in plain sight, or distract people from seeing the truth. After nearly sixteen years, it had more or less become his super power.

And after all, like their Dad had always said: with great power, came great responsibility.

_—30—_


End file.
